Bring Me To Life
by CrypticScripts
Summary: Post-HBP, One-shot. Dumbledore's death affected two people far more than anyone could ever imagine. He was lost in self-doubt; she grieved her role in the turn of events. In times of depression, hope blossoms in the strangest of places. Harry/Rosmerta.


**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Not my disclaimer either. In simple words, YOU CAN'T SUE ME.

**Spoilers:** PS/SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, HBP, QTTA, FB.

**Genre:** Romance / Hurt/Comfort.

**Rating:** M – For MATURE language and themes.

**Summary:** Post-HBP, One-shot. Dumbledore's death affected two people far more than anyone could ever imagine. He was lost in self-doubt; she grieved her role in the turn of events. In times of depression, hope blossoms in the strangest of places. Harry/Rosmerta.

**Author's Notes:**

This idea had been in my head for a really long time. I have seen Harry paired with a number of odd females, odd as in lesser known ones and should not be restricted to Luna. And although we see in canon that Rosmerta is the object of many fantasies, judging by Ron's crush on her and her being described as 'pretty' and 'a curvy sort of woman', the pairing hasn't been seen before. And hence, I have decided to walk the lesser known path. I'd very much like to read your comments on this ship as well as about what I've written. – **Levi**.

**BRING ME TO LIFE**

"Just one more, Rose. This will be the last one, I promise alright. Right after this bottle stops moving." Harry said. His voice slurred and each word sounded weird even to his ears. But he wasn't in a state to notice that. He was drunk and it took all of his concentration to see the almost empty bottle of firewhiskey standing on the table next to him.

"You said that two drinks ago too, Harry." Madam Rosmerta replied from the seat next to him, her voice reprimanding yet soft. She moved the bottle to one side just as he was about to grab it and he was left grasping nothing but air. She was doing this since the last few minutes and he hadn't caught her yet.

"Eh? Did I? This will be final one then. Cross my heart, hope to die and all that..."

He was talking to her but his eyes never left the bottle. He wanted to grab it, but damn, somehow it kept on moving. He promised himself to ask Rosmerta, or Rose as he had come to call her, to keep only those bottles that did not move. Moving bottles made drinking from them very difficult.

"You said that too."

"Oh! I did?" He scratched his head feeling somewhat stupid. "So we'll cross Voldemort's heart this time."

She flinched at the name, but giggled nonetheless, and Harry, aided by her distraction, got hold of the bottle at last. Exhilarated at his victory, he couldn't contain his joy and enveloped her in a hug. Still in a daze, he raised the bottle and drank its contents once and for all, before it began to move again.

"There, all done now." He put an arm around her shoulder and leant on her. "You're happy, I'm happy, everyone's happy. Let's celebrate by drinking some more. Besides, that will take care of our Dark Lord problem."

If he had hoped to sidetrack her by his ingenious and crafty plan of killing Voldemort by drinking some more firewhiskey, he would have been disappointed to see that it did not work. She merely raised one of her eyebrows at him and he smiled sheepishly.

"Well, it's worth a try." He added hoping she did not hear it.

"I don't think so, Harry. Come on, now. You need to sleep. As it is, you're going to have a massive hangover tomorrow. Let me take you to your room."

He finally looked around the pub and noticed that it was completely empty. All the torches, except the one above his table and another one at the other end, had been put out and the room was almost dark. He had been sitting at a corner table and drinking to his heart's content since the evening and as always, Rosmerta had put up a couple of privacy charms around it. He had not paid any attention to his surroundings since then.

It was all he had done in the five days that he had been here. He knew by the time he left Hogwarts that he wasn't going to go back there. He had a more arduous task laid before him by Dumbledore – hunting down Voldemort's horcruxes. He wasn't ready to involve his friends into this matter, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to accomplish it on his own. He needed time to think, to sketch his path, and to come to grip with all that had happened. And most of all, he needed to be alone.

Truth be told, he was a lot more depressed than he showed. Behind the tough exterior that he portrayed, he had become more like the small boy his uncle used to lock in the cupboard under the stairs. He was beginning to doubt himself, and if he could ever complete the task that he was destined for. Defeating the Dark Lord wasn't an easy thing under any circumstance.

Since he had come into the wizarding world, one man had always stood behind him like a shadow, protecting him from danger. One could say that he had achieved many feats without the man's help, but that wouldn't be the entire truth. It was the knowledge that someone was there to make things right if they somehow got out of his hands was enough to take step up to danger without looking back.

But the man, Albus Dumbledore, was now dead, and for the first time in his magical life, Harry felt truly scared.

He also needed a place to stay, and even though Privet Drive would have been the best and the safest option, he had decided to leave it. Instead, he took a calculated risk. He knew he could stay at the Dursleys till his birthday only. When he turned seventeen, the protections his mother's sacrifice had created would fall and he would be vulnerable. He had chosen to say goodbye to his relatives before that. He explained the situation, gave them enough money from his account to shut them up and asked them to get another place to live, somewhere far away. All this had taken a week of his stay at Privet Drive, and he had left the place the same day they had.

The plan, as far as Harry was concerned, was rather foolproof. He left with his relatives seemingly on a day out. They had wandered the city and had dropped him off at an alley near King's Cross Station in the evening. Earlier during the week, his uncle had managed to surreptitiously move their belongings little by little to their new home and no one had known a thing. That was the last he had seen of his relatives. He had immediately donned his invisibility cloak, taken out his broom, secured his trunk to a harness and made his way to the _Three Broomsticks_ under the cover of the night sky. It was a cold and lonely flight and he made it there in the nick of time as Rosmerta was just about to close the inn.

_Hid__e in plain sight_ – that was the motto Harry had decided to stick to. He knew that while the inn was located in Hogsmeade and was rather popular, it wouldn't be high on the '_Search here for Harry_' list. In his opinion, it provided to be the perfect hideout that he needed given its proprietors role in the events that had taken place a few days ago.

When he had removed his invisibility cloak, Rosmerta had stared at him in fear. It was, as if she thought he had come to exact revenge, for her part in Dumbledore's death. Instead, he had asked her if he could get a room to stay, some food and lots of privacy and firewhiskey. Unable to speak, she had just nodded an affirmative. But she made sure to provide him with all that he asked.

It had been five days since he had been staying here. He stayed in his room during the day, mostly because he would be sleeping off his hangover since the second day. But whenever he was awake and sober, he thought about what to do about the future. And truthfully speaking, he did not see that many motivating things that would have made him strive to defeat Voldemort or even get him out of his self doubting funk. During the evening, he would make sure to wear a hooded cloak and keep to his own, whenever he would be sitting in the pub. It was better to be a mysterious stranger in a hooded robe than a suspicious fellow who hardly ever ventured out of his room.

Rosmerta had taken good care of him during this time. Not only did she provide him with food and lodgings, and privacy too, she made sure to divert people's attention from him by spinning a tale that he was a loner who was grieving for his lost ones. Harry was glad to see them being considerate enough to leave him alone. He hadn't spoken much with her since he had come here. It was partly due to the fact that he wanted to be alone and partly because she still blamed herself for being a part of the reason why Dumbledore was dead. And knowing how close Harry was to the man, she had opted to stay away from him to avoid hearing it from him.

She used to keep an eye on him, see that he didn't drink too much. But today, she had been unable to do that due to the increase in number of patrons. And as a result, she saw that Harry had gotten completely sloshed.

"I lost track of time," He mumbled at last.

"You also lost track of how much you drank too."

He only giggled in response. He let her hoist him up to his feet as they made their way to his room. Being drunk, he stumbled and involuntarily snaked an arm around her waist to maintain his balance. Rosmerta hoped he was drunk enough not to notice her shiver at the close contact.

They finally reached his room on the first floor. She helped him get out of his robes and gently deposited him on the bed. She turned and was just about to close the door behind her when she heard him speak.

"Rose, can I ask you something?"

She hesitated a bit, but let it go and entered the room once again. She saw him sitting on the bed instead of lying down as she had left him moments ago. The torches on the wall were lit too. He patted the sheet next to him, indicating her to sit. As she sat down, she did not fail to notice that he did not seem as drunk as he was when she brought him here. _Had he been pretending?_

"What is it Harry?"

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

Her eyes widened at his direct question. He was looking straight at her and she avoided his gaze. It took all her effort to stay there instead of running out of the room.

"I wasn't avoiding you Harry. Whatever made you think that?"

"Look Rose, don't deny it, I can see it you know. I have been down the guilt road, I know how it is."

She fidgeted under his gaze but did not meet it or say anything.

"And I can understand how difficult it must be for you to live with the knowledge of what you had to do. Being under the Imperius Curse is a bad enough, but the fact that your actions resulted in someone's death will never leave your thoughts."

He saw a tear slide down her cheeks and he tenderly took her hand in his own.

"I want you to know that Dumbledore didn't blame you, really he didn't. He knew it wasn't your fault. I don't blame you and neither does anyone else."

A couple more tears fell from her eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, believe me."

"I can't say how much I've wanted to hear you say that, Harry." She replied finally.

"I can understand. And I wanted to thank you for taking care of me."

"It was the least I could do after… after everything that's happened. There were times that I just wanted to come and talk to you. Plead to you and make you believe that it wasn't my fault. I would give anything if I could somehow go back in time and change history."

"Wouldn't we all?" He replied bitterly.

"I wanted to talk to someone, tell them what I've been through, hoping against hope someone would understand what I had gone through. But I see distrust in everyone's eyes. I wished there was someone who would just listen to me, and make the pain go away."

"Tell me, Rose. I can be a good listener."

She stood up, went to the window and opened the drapes, letting some fresh air inside. As if on cue, the torches went out and the moonlight streaming through the window was the only source of light in the room. And illuminated by it, standing by the window, Rosmerta looked like an angel of beauty he could have envisioned in his dreams. She did not look as pretty as many of the times he had seen her. He would have thought that she appeared more attractive any other time than she appeared now, her cheeks still moist with tears. But judging by the way the moonlight reflected off her skin and her curly hair danced in the breeze, he wasn't sure of that anymore.

"It was bad, Harry, very bad. I still have nightmares. I don't remember all the details of it, but whatever I remember is enough to last for a lifetime. The healers say my mind has rejected the memories. I shudder whenever I think that the things that actually happened might have been far worse than what I remember. I desperately wanted to be free, but I wasn't strong enough. And when you came to me that day, I was so afraid. I was half sure you would blame me. But you never even raised the issue, just stayed and kept to yourself. Every time I saw you I wanted to tell you everything that I had done. But every time I would be more afraid than the last time and stay silent. I always felt you would blame me. Blaming myself, I could deal with, but I wouldn't have been able to live if I would have heard anyone else saying the words, especially not you."

Harry got up and stood beside her, silently urging her to continue. He knew any words that he said would be hollow and wouldn't help her, but his presence might help lessen the pain she obviously felt.

"I don't actually know when or how the bastard put the curse. I can't say anything would have been different had I seen the curse coming. I am not that strong to break it. It wasn't much difficult in the beginning. I remember acting as normal as always. Perhaps, he wanted me to do that?"

She looked at him for his confirmation.

"Yeah, maybe he didn't want you to appear suspicious to others."

"Then there were the small demands, do this, do that. I remember communicating with him through the coins, but even those memories are in just bits and pieces. I don't remember. And I'm not sure if I want to."

She fell silent but Harry could still hear the occasional sob coming from her. He knew one thing for sure - the next time he saw Malfoy, he would not be lenient. For too long he had managed to get away with nothing but a slap on the wrist. The next time they met, the bastard was going to pay, Snape would too, for that matter. They would be the perfect target to practice the Cruciatus Curse. He knew he could generate enough hate now to make it work.

"Tell me then, Harry," she asked after some time, "why are you wasting yourself away, drinking so much?"

"Can't you figure?"

"Dumbledore," he answered softly.

"How is he responsible?"

"Dumbledore was one of the pillars which supported the building of my life, Rose, perhaps the strongest one. I didn't see it then, but I can see it now. His support meant everything for me. But now that he's gone, I am left helpless. Don't they say that you truly appreciate a thing only when you lose it? When he was there, I was free to act knowing that he would be there to support me if anything went wrong. But he has left me now. And sooner or later, Voldemort is going to get to me and I won't be able to escape. No one would be there to save me. Before this, I wanted to fight him, if that was the last thing I ever did. But now, I'm not sure if I'll be able to win if I do so. I don't know if I should fight knowing that there is no guarantee of winning. I am tired, Rose, tired of living like this, tired of fighting for my life. Is it wrong to be selfish just once in your life?"

She caressed his cheek lightly with her hand and he leaned into her touch.

"It isn't wrong at all Harry. You have always been self sacrificing, a Hero to all. Maybe now you should look after yourself first than risking your life for others. You don't need to be a Hero. Sometimes even Heroes need to leave the battles that they can't win."

He felt tears stinging his eyes at her words.

"Do you think I can beat him?"

"Not today, but maybe someday. Not until you believe it yourself, and in yourself."

He looked at her face and saw nothing but care and sincerity shining in her eyes. Impulsively, he circled his arms around her waist and pulled her into a hug. She didn't resist. She knew he needed that. Even Heroes bleed. And no one had bled more than him.

They stayed in each other's arms for some time, with the shining moon being the only witness. They both needed the comfort the other provided. He pulled away from her and she saw gratitude in his eyes. His hands remained on her waist as she caressed his face.

On a whim, she pulled him closer and their lips met. For a second, he did not respond and she wondered if he would reject her. But the next instance, he did with passion and by pulling her as close as he could. A few moments later she felt his tongue asking permission to enter and she granted it without hesitation. The kiss became more and more intense as the passion continued to grow and soon both of them were moaning in desire.

The need for air finally became too much and they had to pull apart. Both of them were panting heavily and clung to each other.

"I need you, Rose," he whispered in her ear.

"And I need you, Harry. Make me yours."

No further invitation was needed.

**-------------------------**

Sometime later, when both were coherent enough, he turned so that she now lay on the bed with her eyes closed and he, beside her with his head propped up on his elbow. He reached with his other hand and began teasing her nipples once again, making her moan softly. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him.

"You are insatiable," she said with a smirk.

"I have a scrumptious feast laid out in front of me."

"Harry!" she exclaimed with a blushing smile.

"Well, it's true. And I feel like I've just had the appetizers. I can't wait for the main course."

She smiled and caressed his face and he leaned into her touch, enjoying the sensation. He had a feeling that it wouldn't last for long. He had spent the last few moments contemplating about his future, planning and counter planning, and at last had come to a conclusion. He just hoped he was doing the right thing.

"I am going to fight him," he said at last, breaking the comforting silence.

"I know," she replied, her smile never leaving her beautiful face.

"Huh? You do?"

"It's who you are, Harry, that's what you do. You are a Hero. And though Heroes bleed, they never quit. They go on when everyone else has given up hope, because that defines who they are. You are no different, Harry. You feel others' pain like it's your own. You fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. It's not the Boy-Who-Lived; it's you, just Harry Potter."

He thought about that for a few moments and try as he might, he couldn't find a fault in her logic. He understood it more clearly now. That's who he was, that's who he was supposed to be – a Hero, the Chosen One, the _lone voice of truth_, and everything else. He felt his desire for justice harden that ever before – like a fortress of resolve had formed inside him.

He had the power to vanquish Voldemort. And he would not give up till his last breath. He understood that no one had forced him to fight. He himself had chosen his path and now he was determined to continue walking on it without fear. His eyes once again met hers and he had the feeling that he could easily lose himself in those beautiful orbs.

"I see that you are not only beautiful and sexy, but intelligent to boot." He smiled mischievously.

"Of course I am," she asserted with a smile.

"So, how about the main course now?" he asked in a voice full of innocence.

In reply, she just captured his lips in a passionate kiss that promised unimaginable pleasures and he was eager enough to reciprocate it in kind. He wondered how awesome the dessert will be.

**Author's Notes:**

Ah, over and done with. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

This is the non-explicit version. For the explicit version, see the link in my profile page.


End file.
